Economic woes
and the grueling war in Afghanistan are complicating the world's most
important alliance, but Western powers remain united

The leaders of France, the U.S., Germany, and the UK pose for a family photo at the NATO summit in Lisbon. Reuters

The
blistering farewell speech to NATO by U.S. defense secretary Robert
Gates warning of a "dim, if not dismal" future for the Alliance drew the
Western public's attention to a longstanding debate about the state of
the transatlantic relationship. With prominent commenters voicing
concern about much more than just a two-tiered defensive alliance,
questioning whether the U.S.-Europe relationship itself is past its
prime, doubts that the Western alliance that has dominated the post-Cold
War world are reaching a new high.

But those fears are
overblown, and may be mistaking short-term bumps in the relationship for
proof of a long-term decline that isn't there. Gates' frustration with
the fact that only five of the 28 NATO allies are living up to their
commitment to devote 2 percent of GDP to defense, which has hindered
their ability to take on even the likes of Muammar Qaddafi's puny force
without American assistance is certainly legitimate and worrying.

Though
the U.S.-Europe partnership may not be living up to its potential, it
is not worthless, and that relationship continues to be one of the
strongest and most important in the world. Gates is an Atlanticist whose
speech was, as he put it, "in the spirit of solidarity and friendship,
with the understanding that true friends occasionally must speak bluntly
with one another for the sake of those greater interests and values
that bind us together." He wants the Europeans, Germany in particular,
to understand what a tragedy it would be if NATO were to go away.

Most
Europeans don't see their security as being in jeopardy and political
leaders are hard pressed to divert scarce resources away from social
spending -- especially in the current economic climate -- a dynamic that
has weakened NATO but, despite fears to the contrary, not the greater
Transatlantic partnership.

It would obviously have been a great
relief to the U.S. if European governments had shouldered more of the
burden in Afghanistan. This disparity, which has only increased as the
war has dragged on and the European economies suffered, is driving both
Gates' warning and broader fears about the declining relationship. But
it was our fight, not theirs; they were there, in most cases against the
strong wishes of the people who elected them to office, because we
asked. We'd have fought it exactly the same way in their absence. In
that light, every European and Canadian soldier was a bonus.

Libya,
however, is a different story. The Obama administration clearly had
limited interest in entering that fight - Gates himself warned against
it -- and our involvement is due in part to coaxing by our French and
British allies. The hope was to take the lead in the early days,
providing "unique assets" at America's disposal, and then turn the fight
over to the Europeans. But, as Gates' predecessor noted not long after
the ill-fated 2003 invasion of Iraq, you go to war with the army you
have, not the one you wish you had.

The diminished capabilities
of European militaries, spent by nearly a decade in Afghanistan, should
be of no surprise. NATO entered into Libya with no real plan for an end
game beyond hoping the rebels would somehow win or that Qaddafi would
somehow fall. That failure, to be fair, is a collective responsibility,
not the fault of European militaries alone.

But the concern goes
deeper than different defensive priorities. Many Europeans worry that
the United States takes the relationship for granted, and that the Obama
administration in particular puts a much higher priority on the Pacific
and on the emerging BRICS (Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South
Africa) economies.

New York Times columist Roger Cohen
recently wrote that this is as it should be: "In so far as the United
States is interested in Europe it is interested in what can be done
together in the rest of the world." In Der Spiegel, Roland Nelles and Gregor Peter Schmitz lamented, "we live in a G-20 world instead of one led by a G-2."

It's
certainly true that, if it ever existed, the Unipolar Moment that
Charles Krauthammer and others saw in the aftermath of the Soviet
collapse is over. But that multipolar dynamic actually makes
transatlantic cooperation more, not less, important. A hegemon needs
much less help than one of many great powers, even if it remains the
biggest.

Take the G-20. Seven of the members are NATO Allies: the
US, Canada, France, Germany, Italy, the UK, and Turkey. Toss in the EU,
and you have 40 percent of the delegation. If they can form a united
front at G-20 summits, they are much more powerful than if each stands
alone. Add in four NATO Partner countries (Russia, Japan, Australia, and
South Korea) and you're up to 60 percent of the delegation -- a
comfortable majority for the U.S.-European partnership and its circle of
closest allies.

Granted, it's unlikely that we'll achieve
consensus among all 12 states on any one issue, let alone most issues.
But constantly working together toward shared goals and values expands a
sense of commonality.

And, like so many things, projects end.
Indeed, that's generally the goal. The transatlantic military alliance
that formed to defeat fascism remained intact after victory; indeed, it
expanded to include its former German and Italian adversaries. NATO
outlasted the demise of its raison d'être, the Soviet threat, and went
on to fight together --along with many of its former adversaries -- in
Bosnia, Kosovo, Afghanistan, and Libya. Is there seriously any doubt
that other challenges will emerge in the future in which the Americans
and its European allies might benefit from working together?

About the Author

James Joyner is an associate professor of security studies at the Marine Corps Command and Staff College and a nonresident senior fellow at the Brent Scowcroft Center on International Security at the Atlantic Council.

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